


The King’s Heir

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Baby Ereinion, Canon Compliant, Childbirth, Cousin Incest, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 12:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20174101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Fingon did manage to produce an heir quite a long time before his death.The fact that he managed to do this without a Queen did not concern most.His people had known of their King’s love for the eldest son of Fëanor since before Fingon’s reign had begun.





	The King’s Heir

**Author's Note:**

> I’m obsessed with Maedhros & Fingon now. That is all.

An armed host, sent to Himring by the High King of the Noldor himself, had finally returned home to Hithlum and to the halls of King Fingon with their delicate burden among them.

Maedhros, eldest son of Fëanor, was, at most times, anything but helpless. However, his current condition had crippled him terribly and made him quite slow. He needed the King’s protection now more than he ever had before, and not only for himself.

“Fools! Bring him inside! He’s exhausted! Can’t you see?” Fingon raged as he hurried out from his royal dwelling to meet the men he’d sent to escort his lover back to him.

“I am well, cousin...” Maedhros insisted, though two of the strongest elves riding with the company had to help him from his horse and bear him away to a private bed chamber. 

“I want a healer to be brought here to me now!” The angered and worried king demanded to his house servants after the riders whom had carried Maedhros to bed had gone.

“Of course, my lord.” One servant bowed, leading two others behind her out of the room they’d been preparing in anticipation for Maedhros’ arrival.

“You sound much more like a tyrant than a good king of a prosperous people.” Maedhros accused his cousin from where he lay, barely able to keep his eyes open, in a soft bed of goose feather down, topped with sheets silk and blankets woven with the most comfortable of all fabrics. 

“I was worried.” Fingon defended himself, shutting the doors to the bedchamber and turning to face Maedhros. “I am worried still for you. Fear sets anger to my heart, Nelyo.”

“You should not allow that.” Maedhros frowned before Fingon came to perch upon the edge of his bed, the wrath and anxiousness gone from his eyes as he looked to his beloved. 

“Let me see?” He pleaded then, and Maedhros obliged his request, reaching down with his one remaining hand and pulling his tunic up over the swell of his belly. Fingon helped him to move the fabric out of the way and his eyes were wide with both excitement and dread as he then placed his hands against his lover’s distended middle, where their child grew and awaited the nearing hour of its birth.

“It will be soon.” The elder elf sighed with much weariness.

Fingon swallowed hard, noting how Maedhros now carried their child low in his womb. The baby had dropped, and was ready now to be born. All that was left to be done now was to wait.

“I’ve gathered the most wonderful midwives and healers from every corner of my kingdom.” Fingon assured his love as he went about tucking Maedhros into his blankets once more. “You will have everything that you need when the time comes. I swear this to you.”

He leaned forward then and kissed the top of Maedhros’ forehead.

“I do not care for midwives or healers of any sort.” His cousin protested. “I want you. Only you, my love.”

“And I will be there. I promise that as well.” Fingon assured him.

....

“You are doing beautifully, Melwa.” One of Maedhros’ midwives spoke softly to encourage her patient as his long labor drew near to an end.

“Á ala anta am.” The King pleaded at his lover’s side, holding him tightly against his own body and clasping the hand that Maedhros still possessed in his own. “You are strong, Melindo.”

“Breathe in deeply.” Another midwife instructed the laboring prince. “Illi ië mára.”

Maedhros drew in a deep breath and looked up to Fingon, desperate for this agony to be done with. His eyes were pleading, begging for mercy, and Fingon’s heart was shaken.

“Bear your child into the world.” The midwife, who was settled between Maedhros’ legs, said firmly to the waning elf.

“I cannot!” Maedhros grunted, though his body could not fight the urge to bear down against the horrible burning pain that reared once more in his lower half. 

“You must!” Fingon insisted. “Push, Nelyo! Bring forth our son!”

Maedhros screamed then, bearing down against the terrible stinging and gripping Fingon’s hand tighter in his mighty grasp. 

“Only once more.” The head midwife announced, to the great excitement of those assisting her and to the long sought after relief of both Maedhros and the King. 

The son of Fëanor was sweating and panting and shivering and trembling as if he’d been trapped beneath a frozen winter lake for a great many hours, his body robbed of all strength.

However, he did push once more, shouting as the child was delivered and placed upon his stomach, wailing in protest of being handled by the midwife who had caught him from his mother.

“Nelyo...” King Fingon whispered in awe of the tiny being that his beloved Maedhros had just borne for him. 

“Be silent.” Maedhros threatened the king, placing his arms over his sobbing little son, though his movements to comfort the child were slow and weakened. “I will bear no other child. It was an awful pain...”

“Yes, but not a labor without fruit.” Fingon smiled softly, bending to kiss Maedhros’ sweaty forehead as his eyes beheld their son in his lover’s arms.

“Ereinion.” He named the child. “May you grow to be strong and bold of heart.”

.....

Translations

Á ala anta am - Do not give up

Illi ië mára - All is well


End file.
